


Christmas Days

by sariane



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, First Christmas, Holidays, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Snowball Fight, Tenth Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 23:51:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sariane/pseuds/sariane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Phil's first and tenth Christmases together don't go exactly as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Days

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt by mercipourlevenin526 on tumblr: _clint/coulson christmas either like first christmas or 10th christmas lol all the fluff!_
> 
> I couldn’t decide, so I went with both! And they…kind of got away from me. Anyways, I hope you like it. Merry Christmas! :) <3 <3
> 
> Thanks to Pardon_the_egg_salad for the beta. <3
> 
> Warnings:  
> -Mentioned off-screen canon-typical violence  
> -Swearing

**I. Year One**

The basement door swung shut behind the mafia thug with a loud bang, leaving them alone in the darkness.

"Well," Clint said after a moment. "I don't think he liked me."

Coulson sighed, his voice somewhere off to Clint's right side from the chair he'd been tied to. "That might be an understatement, Barton," he said. Clint imagined a long-suffering look on Coulson's face that probably wasn't there at all. _Don’t be an idiot, Barton,_ he told himself.

"How's the eye?" Coulson asked, interrupting Clint’s thoughts.

"Better than your arm," Clint deflected. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm…holding," Coulson replied. Clint strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of Coulson, but he could barely make out his silhouette in the dark basement.

Coulson didn't say anything else, and Clint let the silence stretch on as he tested the ropes on his chair. They were tight, knots tied so well that even he couldn't get out of them. He heard Coulson straining in his chair, trying to undo the ropes on his own chair. After a few minutes, Clint gave up, resigning himself to staring at the dark ceiling, trying to make out the muffled voices of the thugs upstairs.

Clint's watch beeped four times, loud and clear in the empty basement.

He heard Coulson freeze.

"You left your watch alarm on?" Coulson said in disbelief. "We were undercover. Radio silence. And you left your _watch_ \--"

"I…forgot," Clint said, slumping down in his chair. "At least he didn't _take_ my watch. Okay?"

"No, it isn't," Coulson snapped. "You could have blown our cover and compromised the mission, you can’t be careless like --"

"I already did," Clint said sharply, raising his voice. It bounced off the walls of the basement and back at Clint, his last words echoing painfully in his ears. The two of them quieted, wondering if Clint's outburst would capture the attention of the thugs upstairs. Clint inhaled sharply.

"Sorry," Clint huffed out, quietly now. "I didn't think."

"That's clear," Coulson said, his voice thick with disappointment. Clint hated when he sounded like that. "Tell me, what was so important for you to risk our cover?"

Clint swallowed. "It's Christmas."

Coulson didn't say anything for a long moment.

"I forgot," Coulson said. He didn't say anything else, but Clint couldn't sit there and let the darkness swallow them up.

“Usually I spend my Christmases alone in my apartment with a six pack of beer and Pay-Per-View,” Clint admitted. “I don’t even know if you celebrate it, but I thought…maybe this year would be different.”

“Different how?” Coulson asked, his voice schooled back into a carefully neutral tone Clint recognized from interrogations and interviews.

Clint shrugged. “I just figured, hey, we’d have some downtime in the safehouse, waiting for our extraction. And that you’d probably rather not spend your holiday with me, of all people, so why not try to make it…special.”

Special wasn’t the right word, it didn’t taste right in Clint’s mouth, but he didn’t know how else to communicate it to Coulson. He wanted to spend Christmas with him, to sit next to him instead of stretching out on an empty couch alone, to crack a joke and bring a smile to his face, to _share_ Christmas with him.

_I’m not asking for much, am I_? Clint thought wryly.

“Sorry,” Clint said quickly. “It was stupid. It’s not your ideal Christmas, I know.”

"I don't usually --" Coulson cleared his throat "-- have anyone to spend Christmas with."

"Me neither," Clint bit his lip. "But, since it was just going to be the two of us, I, um, got you something."

"Barton, we're on assignment," Coulson said, confused.

"Yeah," Clint shrugged, forgetting that Coulson couldn't see him. "It was just something I picked up while I was scoping out the area. There was this antique shop down the street, and they had this fountain pen." Clint wet his lips. "It's stupid, I know," he continued, "but I know how you like old shit, and…yeah."

"Barton --" Coulson started.

"Don't say it," Clint said hoarsely. He cleared his throat. "I know, it was dumb. I didn't even wrap it. But," and Clint was glad for the darkness now, because it was easier to say it if he pretended that Coulson wasn't listening, "I thought you deserved a good Christmas, for once. If anyone does, it's you. I wanted to give that to you, just for a moment." He pressed his lips together, willing himself not to say another word. _Stupid_ , he thought. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

"Barton," Coulson said, "that's not stupid."

"No?" Clint asked.

"No."

For a long moment, Clint watched through the semi-darkness as Coulson opened his mouth, ready to say something to Clint. He waited.

The moment passed, and they were interrupted by the basement door. It swung open, revealing Natasha Romanoff, silhouetted by light at the top of the stairs with her hands on her hips. Clint grinned.

"And an angel appeared to the shepherds," Clint laughed, turning to Coulson, "and told them --"

"I'm here to save your sorry asses," Natasha finished. "Merry Christmas."

*

**II. Year Ten**

"How many people are coming tonight?" Phil asked Clint, who was sitting at their kitchen table, scowling at his StarkPad with a certain amount of consternation. Phil turned off the steaming teakettle and poured out two cups of tea.

"Between the Avengers, your old team, our friends at SHIELD, everyone's significant other,  and everyone who's come back from the dead in the past five years, " Clint said, "Too many."

"Maybe we _should_ have let Stark host it again," Phil considered, handing Clint his tea and sitting across from him at the table. He took the tablet to look at the guest list himself.

"Yeah right," Clint snorted. "After last year's fiasco?"

"Natasha, May, and Captain Rogers handled it," Phil said levelly.

"You still call him 'Captain,'" Clint smirked. "That's adorable." Phil narrowed his eyes at Clint and _definitely_ didn't blush.

"It's a sign of respect," Phil said. "Maybe you should go back to calling me 'sir.'"

"Maybe I will, _sir,_ " Clint smirked, leaning over the table to grab Phil's tie and pull him in for a kiss. Phil made a noise of protest as Clint tugged at his tie, pulling it undone.

"We still have a few hours before the guests arrive," Clint said with hooded eyelids. "Why don't I give you one of your Christmas gi --?"

_BRRRRNG BRRRRNG._

Clint groaned as the doorbell went off. Phil pulled away and straightened his tie.

"Oh, come on!" Clint threw his hands up in frustration.

"Who could that be?" Phil said, pushing his chair in and going out to the hall to answer the door.

"Ten guesses who," Clint muttered as he trailed behind him.

Phil glanced through the peephole before he opened the door.

"Merry Christmas," he said, ignoring Clint's "Bah, humbug, cockblockers," from behind him.

"Sorry we're early," Steve Rogers said, an apologetic smile on his face. "Tony was a little restless, said we should check to see if you needed help getting ready for the party. I brought some of my hot chocolate," he said, holding up a large thermos.

"STEVE, DUCK!" someone yelled from the sidewalk.

"Wha --?" Phil started, before Steve ducked and Phil was hit right in the face with a snowball.

"Oh, shit, I'm going to die," Phil heard Tony Stark say faintly as he screwed his eyes shut against the cold sting. "Protect me, Bruce; he's going to kill me."

"That would be too kind," Natasha's voice followed.

Phil wiped the snow out of his eyes and was greeted with an angry Steve and a highly amused Clint.

"Stark, what the hell's wrong with you?" Steve said, turning to yell at Tony. Bruce was trying to shrug Tony off him, and finally succeeded.

"So many things," Tony said in what he probably thought was an undertone, jumping behind Thor to hide inside.

Phil stepped back inside to grab his coat, boots, and mittens, and reemerged in time to see that a full-blown snowball fight had erupted on the sidewalk in front of his and Clint's brownstone. Snowballs flew through the air like bombs between the two opposing teams, while they baited each other with shouted insults. Phil stopped and stared.

On one team, Steve was leading Thor in building a snow fort while Clint covered them with snowball fire.

On the other, Tony shouted expletives while pelting snowballs at Steve. Natasha and Bruce were conspiring behind their own snow fort.

"Son of Coul!" Thor shouted when he saw Phil standing in the neutral territory of his front stoop. "Join our team. Together, we can achieve victory!"

"No!" Tony shouted, waving at Phil. "They suck. Join us if you want to _win._ "

"You can get back at Clint for washing your white shirts with his red ones," Natasha said, smiling mischievously at Phil.

"Yeah, well I can offer you blow jobs," Clint said.

"Uh, so can I," Tony said, but he didn't duck in time to avoid the snowball Clint sent flying towards his face. "Fuck you, Barton!" Tony yelled, spitting out snow.

Phil considered for a moment, and then dived towards Steve's team, taking cover under their snow fort before Natasha and Bruce could land more than a few snowballs. Clint whooped in victory, ducking down to give Phil an icy-cold kiss.

"Good to have you," Steve said mock-seriously, a mischievous, happy glint dancing in his eyes. "Let's teach them a lesson."

"FOR ASGARD!" Thor yelled, throwing a torrent of snowballs (only a few of which actually met their mark). Phil thought he heard Bruce burst into laughter from behind their fort.

"THIS IS WAR!" Tony yelled, pelting a snowball that hit Phil in the shoulder.

Phil crouched behind Clint and Steve, rounding snowballs for them in a steady supply while Steve commanded their attack. Natasha was the heaviest hitter of the other team, so Clint concentrated his fire on her, while Thor targeted Bruce.

"TAKE THAT, CAPTAIN TIGHTPANTS!" Tony yelled as he finally hit Steve. He pumped his fists in the air and shouted, "Yippie-ki-yay, motherfuckers! SUCK MY IRON --"

"THERE ARE CHILDREN ON THIS STREET!" someone yelled a few houses down, poking their head out of a window. Phil took advantage of the distraction to hit Tony and Bruce with a snowball in each hand.

"Yeah, and they're all right here," Bruce said dryly, his voice muffled by the wall of snow he'd hidden under.

Just like that, the snowballs from the other side stopped. Steve motioned for them all to move into a huddle while the other team commiserated as well.

"What's the plan, Cap?" Clint asked with a barely-hidden laugh.

"We need to concentrate our fire," Steve said, unable to keep his face serious.

"Tony's their weak spot," Phil said, "he can't stop laughing long enough to actually throw straight."

"And I know just how to defeat him," Steve said. "Thor, I need you to --"

"SURPRISE ATTACK!" Tony yelled as he ran towards them, Natasha and Bruce at his sides. They collapsed Steve's fort and pelted the four of them with snowballs. Clint rolled over on the snowy sidewalk, moaning in agony as Natasha tackled him, while Bruce attempted to talk Thor into switching sides.

"It's not a surprise if you yell it," Steve said, throwing a snowball at Tony that went wide.

"You were surprised, though," Tony said, attempting to tackle Steve but utterly failing to knock him down, like a toddler trying to take down a linebacker.

"Phil," Clint groaned, fingers catching on Phil's ankle as he aimed a snowball at Bruce. "Help me."

Natasha pulled Clint away by his ankle and forced him onto his feet and into a headlock. She held a snowball threateningly next to his head, ready to take out her hostage if necessary.

"Wimp," Natasha chided Clint. "Don't help him, Coulson."

"I'm sorry, Natasha," Phil said, holding his snowball up with his right hand. "But it's personal this time."

Phil threw the snowball, letting Natasha dodge to the side before hitting her with the snowball he'd hidden behind his back.

"Damn it, Phil!" she yelled, loosening her grip on Clint enough for him to slip free and run into Phil's arms.

"My hero," Clint said overdramatically, looking into Phil's eyes with a fake swoon. Phil scoffed, but he pulled Clint to him and closed the distance between them with a kiss.

There was melting snow in Clint’s hair, the tips of his ears were bright red, and his lips were cold and chapped against Phil’s, but Phil just tugged him closer.

"Oh, however can I thank you?" Clint said, pulling away to bat his eyelashes ridiculously. Phil thought he heard Natasha making gagging noises to Bruce and Thor.

" I might have a few suggestions," Phil began to murmur, but they were interrupted with Tony's shouting.

Phil and Clint turned in time to see Steve lying in a snow bank, Tony kneeling over him, half-collapsed from laughing.

"What have we done?!" Tony yelled to the nearly-empty street, choking on a giggle, "He was so young!"

"He's nearly one hundred," Bruce chuckled.

"Yeah, well, Thor's a few thousand years old," Tony said, turning to glare at Bruce and waving his hand flippantly. "Have some sympathy, Bruce, for our fallen enemy. America's fallen son. The heroic Captain America: death by snowball. What a way to go.  This is what happens when we fight amongst ourselves, you know," Tony said seriously. "It wasn't worth -- SHITFUCK HOLY SHIT," Tony screamed as Steve sat up and stuck a handful of snow down his coat and shirt.

"Never let your guard down," Steve said smugly. Tony jumped up, hopping around on the sidewalk to get the snow out of his shirt, cursing up a storm. Steve got to his feet, looked at the others, and grinned. "Hot chocolate, anyone?"

They all nodded in descent before heading into Clint and Phil's brownstone, stomping to get the snow off them as they went inside. Tony didn’t stop complaining the entire time, his voice shrill as he loudly announced that Steve was a traitor.

Natasha’s voice betrayed a hint of fondness as she ushered Tony and the others out of the hallway to give Clint and Phil some space, muttering, “Come on, wise guy,” out of the corner of her mouth.

Clint closed the front door behind him and Phil. Thor's booming laugh echoed into the hallway while the two of them stripped off their coats and set their boots by the door to dry.

"Are you mad?" Clint asked Phil as he peeled off his gloves.

"Why would I be?" Phil said, brow wrinkling.

Clint smiled softly and leaned forward for a quick kiss. Clint’s hand lingered on Phil’s cheek. Phil covered it with his hand to warm his cold fingers.

"They always show up to interrupt us," Clint said. “I thought, this year, you’d want us to have more time alone. I know I’m not so great at holidays and gifts,” he said, looking down, “but I thought I could give you a special Christmas this year, just the two of us, y’know? But –“

"Clint," Phil interrupted him before he could babble anymore. He pulled Clint closer. "This is the best Christmas I've had in a long time," he whispered. "I like spending it with you -- with everyone. That's all I ever wanted. It’s better than any other gift you could get me."

“You are disgustingly mushy, you know that?” Clint chuckled.

“It’s stupid, I know, but I’m happy here,” Phil whispered. “With you.”

"Yeah?" Clint said, cracking a smile.

"Yeah."

Clint looked down at his feet, and then glanced upwards, over Phil's head, towards the ceiling.

"Hey, what's that?" he said. Phil followed his gaze to the cheesy plastic mistletoe hanging over their heads. "Hm," Clint fake-scowled. "I wonder who put that there."

"Yeah, I wonder," Phil laughed, then pressed himself flush against Clint to kiss him. He closed his eyes, and let Clint kiss the warmth back into him.

Suddenly, Clint stuck his cold hands underneath Phil's shirt, making him jump and startle.

" _Clint_ ," Phil hissed, trying to pull Clint off him, but he only laughed and used his cold hands to pull Phil flush against him. "You're _freezing_."

"Mmhmm," Clint said, kissing Phil's neck. "Wanna warm me up?"

In a moment, Natasha would appear in the doorway, arms crossed, telling them to get a room. Or maybe it would be Tony, wolf-whistling and cat-calling until Steve stepped in to manhandle him out of their way. It might be Thor, apologizing for breaking some prized collectable which Tony would mail them a replacement for the next day.

In the meantime, Phil ignored the icy hands roaming underneath his shirt to cup Clint’s face in his hands and kiss him slowly, while the moment was still theirs. 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays and thanks for reading! :)


End file.
